


Insomnia

by cecilkirk



Series: fic prompts [18]
Category: Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco, idk how to tag this im sorry - Fandom
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Maybe a little angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-22 06:49:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6069330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cecilkirk/pseuds/cecilkirk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brendon can't sleep, so he talks to Pete.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Insomnia

Brendon rubs his eyes, a scowl encircling his mouth. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Pete shrugs. An embarrassed smile curls his lips, the kind that comes from trying not to make his honesty vulnerable. “Couldn’t sleep.”

The orange glow of the streetlights is dim, but still too bright for Brendon’s eyes. “That sounds like your problem,” he whispers. He begins to shut the door, but Pete shoves his foot inside the frame.

“I just wanted to come see you. Is that such a bad thing?”

“Yes, it is,” Brendon says, shutting the door behind him so he can talk to Pete alone. “It’s three in the morning. My parents are sleeping.”

Pete takes a step toward Brendon, shrinking the distance and making its existence more meaningful, less common, more sacred. “You know that’s not the real issue.”

Brendon’s face falls, and blood creeps into his cheeks. “Believe me, I’ve tried to talk to them about it. But they’re religious, and—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Pete mutters, waving the words out of the air.

“Hey,” Brendon says more pointedly, inching toward Pete. “I don’t like it either.” He looks at Pete, trying to figure out what shade of sadness is filling them. “Why are you really here?”

Pete wraps his hand around his neck, looking down at his feet. He laughs awkwardly, nervously, not sure how to put his feelings into words, or even if he should.

He lets a breath fill his lungs, and he lets it go. Finally, lifting his eyes up to Brendon’s:

“I missed you, all right?” He swallows, pauses, breathes again. “I don’t know what happened, but now I can’t sleep when you’re not next to me.”

Brendon clenches his jaw as a blush fills his features again. “Really?”

Pete rolls his eyes at Brendon’s naivete, his humility—whatever this is that’s making Pete out to be great and important. “Yes, really.”

Brendon grins shyly, exhaling an awkward laugh. Pete can’t help but mirror the same smile.

“Well, then,” Brendon says, taking off his hoodie, “you should have this. Maybe it’ll help.”

Pete throws it on. It’s warm; old and worn as shit and heavily stained, but comfortable. And the smell…He covers his hands with the sleeves and pushes them to his face, breathing it in, letting it swirl in his lungs. If he didn’t need to exhale, he wouldn’t have. He wanted to keep it in him, next to his heart, forever.

Brendon grabs his face and kisses his forehead. After a moment of holding eye contact, he kisses him on the lips. Just once, briefly, wary of parents being able to look down from their bedroom window and see them. But he does it, and that counts for something.

The air around them swirls in the way only prevalent in autumn. It’s warm, but still brings goosebumps to bare feet and shirtless torsos and interwoven fingers. The wind is all-encompassing, ineludible, but a strange sort of comfort. They are the only two experiencing this wind at this time of night. In this moment, they are alone, full of the freedom that comes with solidarity. They can’t predict anything, but in this moment, it doesn’t matter. Everything is okay for now, and that is enough.


End file.
